chapter seventeen

What was that?

The beast ran through the tunnels, not even paying attention to the route he took as he wandered further and further away from the girl. His heart was pounding like a stampede that was racing over his thick ribs. He felt hot, like his blood had been heated and his fur had gotten thicker all over his skin.

That rose... Why did it affect me like that?

The beast was no stranger to magic. He utilized it every day in the labyrinth to navigate his surroundings and keep track of the prisoners inside. Even his ring was enchanted to let him be guided through the tunnels when the maze wasn't cooperating. It was always a warm sensation, like a fuzzy drink that flowed through your blood and prickled the fur on the back of your neck. He barely even noticed it anymore, but whatever came off of that rose was so much stronger...

It hadn't harmed him. In fact, it only seemed to flash him with light, yet he couldn't ignore the intense tug that pulled in his gut when he stared into the gleaming petals. It was the same feeling he had when the labyrinth wanted his attention, as if the magic was alive and trying to communicate to him.

It couldn't be...

He shook his thoughts straight and changed his course to head for the center of the labyrinth. The maze guided him with ease, illuminating the tunnels he needed to follow, guiding him to his pitiful excuse for a home. When he arrived, the wall opened up, revealing the hidden cave that was only accessible to him.

He stepped inside, and a rumble echoed after him, but he didn't have to turn around to know that the wall was closing behind him. The familiar scent of fresh running water and ripe greens filled his flared nostrils as he walked past his garden and headed straight for his makeshift bed in the corner.

Bed was a generous term for the pile of red shirts, trousers, and cloaks he had collected over his lifetime. Other than the root vegetables and the roses that grew in the depths of the maze, he had limited supplies to make anything else he needed—hence why he made sure to scavenge everything he could off the bodies he sent to Underworth. He only picked the clothes that were free of blood stains, of course... or at least, he thought so, but it was hard to tell when everyone wore red. He did try to wash them first...

He leaned his axe against a stalagmite and went to work digging under the compressed layers of his bed. He thumbed through the old fabrics until his claws brushed across the parchment he hadn't looked at in years. He pulled the parchment out, and the yellowed paper sent a tingle through his skin as he recalled all the late nights he had spent rereading it as a child. He had the contents memorized, but he still had to be sure.

My darling boy,

I wish I could have saved you sooner, but please accept this final gift from me. Alongside this treasure, I want you to know that there is a way things can be as they once were. I don't know how, but I know that your curse is tied to the labyrinth, and the labyrinth is tied to a rose. The curse can be broken by this rose, but not by you — by someone sent to you. It's dangerous for me to even know that much, but I hope it can be of help to you someday.

All my love,

Mother

The letter was left with him whenever he was first placed in the labyrinth, along with the golden ring that helped him survive as a mere toddler in the maze. The ring guided him to what his heart wanted most, and as a child, it led him to water, food, and safety, time and time again. Later, it even guided his mind through the letters in the note so he could learn how to read. Now it just guided him to what he wanted to remove. His heart wanted peace and quiet, and every once in a while, it wanted to be near the roses.

The roses...

He'd always thought the letter was talking about one of the roses that grew in the labyrinth. Though, now that he reread the note, he could see that it was specifically referring to a single bloom as opposed to a bush of them.

All these years, he'd tended to and guarded the blooms that yielded him nothing but false hope. What if he had been wrong all along? What if the true rose he was in need of was the one that stunned him only moments ago?

He looked down at his ring, twisting it around his scarred knuckles as he felt the magic warm against his skin. He could feel it working, trying to guide him to what his heart wanted more than anything.

It wants the rose. Or at the very least, to know more about it.

He hated his heart for wanting it. For too long, he'd let himself believe that his curse was breakable and that a life outside of the maze could be waiting for him. He thought he'd finally freed himself from such foolish desires, but magic didn't lie... No matter how badly he wanted to be reasonable, part of him believed this rose could be the key to his curse.

The beast stood, dusting off his trousers and snatching his axe back from the stalagmite. He needed to find that girl.